Flower Poetry
by thejapanesemapletree
Summary: "It was not death she feared. It was misunderstanding." (-Zora Neale Hurston, 'Their Eyes Were Watching God')


**A/N:** Since they appear in the story, some mini-bios for Tokugawa and his family!

Tokugawa Haruna: the 17-year-old big sister finishing out her last year of high school

Tokugawa Haruto: (the man himself) the poor 14-year-old middle child in middle school

Tokugawa Koharu: the young 6-year-old sister in 1st grade

.

"It was not death she feared. It was misunderstanding."

(-Zora Neale Hurston, 'Their Eyes Were Watching God')

.

"You _love_ him, don't you?"

Haruna sat perched on the couch like a predatory cat. She even moved like one, with her legs flicking back and forth like a tail and smirk like ferocious teeth. He did not look up from the papers on the kotatsu.

"What does it matter?" he replied with his typical plain severeness.

"Oh, dearest Haruto!" She flipped onto her back, posing her legs in a convoluted and dramatic manner. "Of course it matters!"

He made a check on one of the papers. "It really does not."

"Haruto!" she repeated his name, more sternly this time. She stretched her frontal half from the couch.

"You have a love of exploding fireworks and cymbal crashes and morning birdsongs and bleeding papercut kisses, don't tell me you want to lose that!"

She liked reading poems, and spoke in poems, because poems are always true.

Still, he did not look up. It was interesting to consider that in an unfamiliar situation, his melodramatic sister could turn as regal and plain as any businessman.

"The risk is too great." He ignored her trying to swat at his hair and not being able to reach. "I do not want to upset the balance of power."

"Love is _always_ worth the risk!" She shot back to the couch and perched atop her legs, tilting her head and pointing like she had a crown going sidelong. "The Kingdom of Salt Middle School needs a flowered king _and_ queen."

He looked up now. Confusion festered beneath his cool expression, and his words came out under a breath of irritation:

"Which would I be, then?"

"The king!" she declared, then tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Although, that does not necessarily mean you are the top leader… You are the king because you are the calm and calculated one, while Shinji is vicious."

Unimpressed, he returned to his paperwork. "Is it not usually characterized the other way around?"

"Ah, baby brother, you don't know women at all!"

She zipped from the sanctity of the couch, crowding next to him and squeezing him hard enough to almost make him break his pencil lead in annoyance.

"Just imagine it!" She swept out her free arm. "All the beautiful flowers and delicious wine on your wedding day! I could write a poem about it!"

The lead finally snapped. He responded after, dark and malicious.

"Just because you imagine it that way does not mean it is reality."

Haruna puffed up her cheeks and pouted. But, she did not let it get to her, and just as quickly brightened and snapped her fingers.

"Right! You are the only one who can put words to how you feel. You should write the poem!"

The notion fell with a single word: "No."

She pouted again. She rocked him back and forth, whining all the while.

"Haruto, I won't see you throw your love to waste!

.

All Haruna did was succeed in making him angry.

Who did she think she was, trying to meddle in his personal feelings? And how did she know about them, anyway? It's not like he was open in the first place.

He made his decision, and he was going to stick to it. If he told Kamuro he felt for him 'the love of exploding fireworks and cymbal crashes and morning birdsongs and bleeding papercut kisses,' the result would not be favorable: he would either reject him, and create strain between them, or accept him, and create strain in the student council. Workplace romances are not pretty flirtations, and he knew that, no matter how much it stung.

And, besides, it's not as if Kamuro's family would approve of him.

"Niisan?"

He did not notice his harsh grip around the pencil until his little sister drew him from it. He forced his body to relax with an exhale, turning around in his desk chair to address her.

"Yes, Koharu?"

She took that as an invitation to take a tentative step into his room. She stood very straight, her hands clasped behind her and eyes on the ceiling.

"Um… Neechan said you were having trouble with love."

So she had enlisted the help of the younger sister now. He pinched his forehead at the realization, almost disbelieving of her audacity, but also expecting it.

"Did she?"

"It's one of her favorite subjects, you know," Koharu reminded him, breaking a little out of her embarrassed shell by leaning forward. "Especially with you."

He knew. And it never ceased to annoy him.

"I know."

"Don't be upset with her, Niisan." She hopped her small body onto his cot and bounced with the impact. "She only wants you to be happy."

It would make him happy if she stopped putting her little round nose in his business. Koharu giggled and covered her flushing face like she knew what he was thinking.

"Neechan is so funny. She likes to dream about love, but doesn't know anything about it."

Her beaming face popped out of her hands.

"But you do! You're very lucky."

Few things moved his aloof composure, but his little sister with her glimmering black eyes and warm expression… it was like a tiny unfurling rosebud. It was too cute.

He sunk beneath the intensity of his blush. He muttered something sweet under his breath and shook his head, while Koharu giggled again watching her usually unshakable big brother melt.

"If I were you, I wouldn't do all that poetry stuff," she advised. "I would give him chocolate, or something. Everyone likes chocolate!"

Not a bad thought—or at least better than Haruna's. He twirled his pencil between his fingers and watched the movement reflectively.

"What do you think he likes?"

.

Per usual, he closed the door as quietly as possible.

"Vice President!" another student council member greeted him, and excited when he saw that Tokugawa carried a bag from the convenience store. "Did you bring something for us to share?"

Tokugawa did not even spare him a glance. "No."

Kamuro looked like a rose after the rain: beautiful, but also dangerous. His short and washed hair did not curl in unkempt spirals like it used to, and his skin held the healthy glow of relaxation. He turned like a flower from the sun as Tokugawa approached him near the window, and looked as if he could almost read Tokugawa's bubbling uncertainty.

"Here."

He fished a candy package out of the bag. Kamuro hesitated a moment before lightening up, taking the offered treat more delicately than his eagerness would suggest.

"Peanut butter cups! Thank you!"

The wrapping crinkled as he held it around the edge so the chocolate-coated cups inside would not melt with his body heat. But rather than staring at the candy hungrily, he expressed a soft thankfulness with his eyes.

"How did you know they were my favorite?"

"You have them as a snack at least once a week," Tokugawa placidly reminisced his regular consumption of them during lunchtime.

Kamuro looked disappointed that it had been so obvious. He tore the package on the side, slipping out the first cup in the set.

"Well, thank you, anyway."

Tokugawa would not allow the blood to show on his cheeks. Instead, he nodded once, and that was the end of it. Almost.

"Do you want the other one?"

Kamuro shook out the other cup. Surprised, Tokugawa accepted the cup without thinking, and by the time he regretting not just letting Kamuro keep the candy it was in his mouth. Nevertheless, Kamuro was pleased he was allowed to give his own kindness, and Tokugawa respected the gesture.

Maybe they would not have a wedding celebration of flowers and wine, or fit the roles that Haruna wanted them to, but it was not about that or her. It was about them, and what they had now, and if that was only chocolate, then so be it.

.

 **A/N:** I really have no excuse for this nonsense.


End file.
